The Moon Keeps Shining
by JesusLover13
Summary: "However, it wasn't the losses or the circumstances that made life worth living, but those who stuck by your side through it all."
1. Chapter 1

**Greetings! :) I figured it was about time for a new LoZ story, since I haven't written anything in quite sometime. This was supposed to be a one shot, but it turned out freakishly long and I didn't think anyone would want to sit through over three thousand words at a time. ;P**

**Warning/FYI: This is a bittersweet story and it doesn't have much excitement. The entire thing is told in both flashbacks and current time (flashbacks will be in _italics, _just so you know). It mainly centers around those at Romani Ranch (Cremia, Romani, Grog, and Mamamu Yan) and a little bit around Barten, the man who works at the Milk Bar. Cremia and Romani's father also plays a part in this. The name I've given him is Baiko. Aaaand there is NO romance in this story. Turn back if that's what you were looking for. Friendship only. XD (Also, long author's note ahead, feel free to skip to the story.)**

**I wrote this for a lot of reasons. It's been kind of a rough year as far as losing people goes. Family, close friends, Robin Williams... You get the picture. In the midst of all that, though, writing this really gave me peace. I don't know if you know this or not, but, as a writer, sometimes you write exactly what you need to hear. Sometimes writing is your way of dealing with things. And, the more I wrote this, the better I felt. Yeah, there's been a lot of losses, but - you know what? - there's also been a lot of gain as well. Life can be sad, but it can also be beautiful. Someone might be gone, but look at those surrounding you. There's a lot of ways to view one thing and both God and this story helped me realize that.**

**So, I dedicate this to anyone who's lost someone recently. Remember, it's not about their death, but their life and how it impacted yours. :)**

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><p>The morning light of dawn was just beginning to streak the sky with colors of gold and white when he reached Romani Ranch. The cows were already scattered about the open field, a single balloon floating in place only feet away from the stable. Everything was as it had always been. Things never changed around here - it hadn't for years. But then, they lived on a road called Milk Road. It was underpopulated and seldom when anyone ventured far enough out to visit, or change the routines of life in the country.<p>

He supposed he liked it that way. The quiet, the emptiness, the long, thoughtful strolls he'd take back to Clock Town. There were many perks to working at Romani Ranch and many downsides to residing in Clock Town. The majority of the townsfolk found themselves oblivious to the heart of the ranch, too caught up in the hustle and bustle of life in the city to care for others.

It was that caring spirit, one others so often missed, that had drawn him here in the first place. It was that sense of acceptance and love from a total stranger that had led him here so long ago. He had never known anything like it, never met anyone who cared as much as the people who owned the ranch. The family was small, but their impact on his life was huge.

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><p><em>"Now what are you doin' here again, kid? I thought you got the message last time - I don't hire minors." The gruff man wiped his hands on a towel, sighing as he stared down at the boy before him. "Look, there are other places to work in this town. Maybe you can ask Madame Aroma down at the mayor's office if you can run some errands for her. She loves kids."<em>

_The boy's hands clenched into fists, a pleading look in his white eyes. "Sir, you don't understand, I need the money!"_

_The man frowned, running a hand through his dark hair. "What did you say your name was?"_

_"Grog."_

_He opened his mouth to speak, but the front door of the bar flew open and a tall man appeared in the doorway, holding a large crate. "Milk delivery for Mr. Barten!"_

_Barten moved his gaze from Grog to the man standing in the doorway, a grin playing on his lips. "Well, it's about time." He crossed the room, taking the box from the man. "I thought you'd abandoned the bar for that ol' ranch of yours, Baiko."_

_The younger man smiled softly, heading back to the door. "Are you kidding? You know I'd never forget this place."_

_"Good, 'cause without you we couldn't keep it running." He turned back to Grog, whose white eyes seemed to pierce through their very beings. "Hey, kid, Baiko's got some more milk crates out there. Mind giving us a hand?"_

_"Will I get payed?"_

_"Nope."_

_"Then no."_

_He sighed, disappearing behind the counter to set the crate down as Baiko did the same with another one. "All right, Grog," Barten began, once he'd straightened, grunting when his back popped. "Why do you need the money?"_

_The boy merely blinked. "Why does it matter?"_

_"Because it's not everyday a twelve year old kid shows up at a bar asking for work."_

_"I'm thirteen."_

_"I wasn't asking how old you are."_

_Grog sighed, running a pale hand over his head. "You want the truth?"_

_Barten raised his eyebrows, moving over to let Baiko set another crate down. "I would prefer it, yes."_

_"Well . . . My gramps and I just moved here. He hasn't been doing well. He needs help."_

_"What kind of help?"_

_"He's ill. He needs a doctor."_

_Barten waited for the boy to elaborate, but he never did, so the older man moved around the counter and took a seat on one of the stools lining the bar. "So, you want to get him a doctor?"_

_Grog nodded._

_"There aren't many doctors in Clock Town, you know. Is it something a potion can fix?"_

_"No." The thirteen year old caught the eyes of Baiko, who was now returning for a third time, walking a bit slower now. "He spent all his money to take me here with him. He's the only one who has looked out for me . . . The least I could do is find someone to look out for him."_

_Barten's face softened and he took a deep breath. "Well, kid, you have a big heart, I'll give you that, but I'm afraid I still can't hire you. You're underage."_

_"All right." Grog's sentence was abrupt, his posture suddenly stiff. "Well, thanks, anyway." He had just turned to start toward the exit when he heard another voice from behind him._

_"Hey, wait."_

_He turned around and there was the tall man from the ranch, Baiko. "Listen, uh, I have a ranch down on Milk Road and, I don't know if you'd be interested or not, but I kind of need someone to help with the Cucco Shack I just built."_

_He waited for a while, but the teenager remained expressionless and silent. "Oh, I get it. Kids these days don't want to spend their time working on a ranch. That's fine, my daughter felt the same way, but it's good spending money." He winked and flashed a warm grin, one Grog wasn't used to seeing on an adult. "Your choice."_

_The child's eyes widened. "Are you serious?"_

_"As a cow in a cucco pen."_

_The tiniest of smiles played on Grog's lips and, for the first time since he'd moved to Clock Town, he felt like he'd made a real friend._

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><p>That had been years ago, a long lost memory. He tried not to think about that time in his life, when he was so helpless and Gramps was so sick. He'd had to work hard, but Gramps got the help he needed. That was all that really mattered.<p>

This ranch had changed a lot of things for him, maybe not immediately, but the longer he stuck around, the harder it was to imagine himself leaving. This was home now.

The thought lingered as he pulled open the door to the house and stepped inside, greeted with the smell of cucco and sizzling bacon. He wasn't fond of the idea of eating cucco for breakfast - especially when, afterward, he'd have to go over to the Cucco Shack and pretend like he didn't just eat their kinfolk - but it wasn't like Cremia fixed cucco all the time, so maybe he'd take a bite or two, just enough to show he was grateful she never let him starve.

Mamamu Yan, owner of the Doggy Racetrack next to the Cucco Shack (those pups never shut up), was already at the table next to Romani, watching as Cremia scurried back and forth between the table and stove. "I know you care, honey, but you didn't have to do all this."

It was true, she didn't. Along with the cucco and bacon, the tabletop was crowded with biscuits for Mamamu Yan, deserts for Romani, some sort of weird meat for Grog, and a few other things that smelled wonderful, but filled them all with suspicion.

Romami glanced up from where she was picking at her cucco. "Yeah. You only cook this stuff on special occasions. What's today?"

"Nothing special." Cremia was smiling wider than usual when she turned around, placing the final plate of food on the table and taking a seat across from Romani. "Can't I just do something extra for everyone? You all work so hard to keep this place running. You deserve something nice every once in a while."

Grog watched her, looking for any sign of worry, a sign bad news was coming, but her smile never wavered. If something was wrong, she'd never let them know. She'd always been that way.

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><p><em>He scanned the area surrounding him. There were no cuccos here yet, only a tree and a few colorful boards sitting next to a lone saw in the middle of the yard. This was where the Cucco Shack would be, once they were finished making last minute adjustments.<em>

_Personally, he couldn't imagine working there, much less having cuccos live there. He could still hear the crazy dog lady's mutts yipping from here. All they ever did was run around that stupid race track. Wouldn't the poor cuccos become agitated because of all the noise? And would it be safe for them here? There were no pens and he didn't see any food. How would they eat? Better yet, how would he take care of them?_

_"So what do you think?"_

_He whirled around to see Baiko standing a few feet away, that cheerful grin still spread across his face. "I like it," he replied. "It's big." He glanced over at the boards and the saw sitting across the yard. "What do I do first?"_

_Baiko turned him toward the exit, giving him a hard pat on the shoulder. "Well, Grog, your first assignment is one I think you'll like."_

_The two exited the shack and Baiko stopped abruptly when they headed left of the door. "Cremia. What are you doing here?"_

_The red head was surrounded by paintbrushes and buckets, wearing what looked to be her father's clothes. "I'm here to paint the shack, like you wanted."_

_"That isn't your job," Baiko explained. "We've already talked about this."_

_She crossed her arms over her chest and stared up at him, her eyebrows furrowed. "You made us move all the way out here. The least you can do is let me paint the shack."_

_Baiko took a few steps forward and knelt down to meet her eyes. "I know this wasn't easy," he said softly, "but we didn't have a choice. Just hang on a little while longer and things will get __better, okay?"_

_She blew her hair out of her face, looking away. "This isn't about that, Daddy. I want to paint the Cucco Shack."_

_"I already promised Grog he could."_

_"But-"_

_Grog met her eyes. She looked frustrated, but he knew that was a facade. Even kids had masks to hide behind and hers wasn't as impenetrable as she thought it was._

_Her breath caught in her throat at the sight of his eyes, so white they were completely blank, without even his pupils visible. She tried to backpedal, to seem as though she hadn't been caught off guard, but it was too late. He'd noticed._

_She shifted her gaze back to her father, holding her head high to seem sure of herself. "A-Aren't you paying him?"_

_Baiko nodded._

_"Well . . . I'll work for free!"_

_Grog glanced back and forth between the two. "She can help."_

_They both stared at him, their eyes wide with surprise. "Are you sure?" Baiko questioned. "She can be a bit of a handful to work with sometimes."_

_The boy nodded. "If it means that much to her, then yeah."_

_Cremia glanced back at her father. "Will you let me help?"_

_He smiled. "Of course. I'm gonna go check on Romani. You kids have fun." And with that, he had started across the field, humming a cheerful melody._

_Grog glanced back at the girl before him. "He didn't tell us what color to paint it."_

_She didn't even look his way as she began dumping paint into the buckets. "That's because he trusts my creative genius. I've been painting for a long time now."_

_He grabbed a paint brush and fiddled with it as she finished getting the buckets ready. "How long?"_

_"Two months." She didn't seem to care that that wasn't very long, so Grog decided not to mention it. "It was the last thing my mom did with me before she . . ." She stopped, realizing she'd already said too much, and stood up quickly, dunking her paintbrush into a bucket and splashing some white onto the wooden wall. "We should paint a few cuccos."_

_"Okay." Watching her to make sure he did this right, he wet his paint brush and made small strokes of white a few inches away from her. "So, what happened to your mom?"_

_"Hm?" She looked up at him now, a smile brightening her face while her eyes told a completely different story. "Oh, her? She's just not around anymore."_

_She sounded so cheerful, like it was a normal thing to admit. Grog couldn't imagine feeling so nonchalant about someone's death. She went back to painting, her smile never fading, her cheeks red._

_"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bring it up."_

_Her eyes met his once more and sparkled with something - were those tears? "It's fine, really." She forced the corners of her mouth to stay up. "I'm fine."_

_Grog's hand dropped to his side, splattering paint all over his pants. "Okay." He rubbed the back of his neck, studying her with caution. "Are you sure about that?"_

_"Mhmm!" She smiled wider and went back to painting, ignoring the tears that rolled down her cheeks. "I'm fine."_

_Grog wasn't sure what to do. All he'd wanted was some money to help Gramps. He didn't sign up for all this other stuff - like girls and crying and emotions. It was official: He wasn't cut out for this job. "Uh . . . Maybe I should go get your dad."_

_He had only taken two steps in the opposite direction when her voice forced him to stop, "You know, I could have done this by myself."_

_He could tell she was still crying. This was getting worse by the second. He needn't waste anymore time. This was a job for her father, not him._

_He took another step, but stopped once more when she spoke. "I didn't want to move here. If we'd stayed at home, maybe Mom would have come back."_

_His eyebrows knitted together and he took his time turning to face her. "Come back? But I thought you said she was-"_

_"She's not dead." The paint on her brush, now white with a tint of red from another bucket, dropped to the ground, staining the grass in the same way Cremia's tears stained her face. "She left us."_

_Both of them fell into a long silence, the birds chirping in the air and his pounding heart the only things Grog could hear._

_"I keep thinking she would have come back for me, if I had stayed behind." She wiped her tears away, but didn't dare turn around and face Grog. "She loved me a lot, I know she did. She would have come for Romani and I."_

_He waited for her to continue, but seconds ticked by like hours and he couldn't stand the thought of anymore crying. "If she cared, she would have stayed," he whispered._

_Without warning, her paint brush dropped to the ground and she whirled around, her blue eyes suddenly ablaze with anger. "You don't know what you're talking about! She cared about me more than anyone!" Her hands were coiled into fists at her sides as she stomped through the grass to close the distance between them. "You don't know my mother, so don't talk about her! She loved me! And I wasn't asking for your input, your pity, or even your help! Why did you come here in the first place? My dad has a hard enough time providing for us without some beggar showing up, asking for money!"_

_"Beggar?" Grog repeated, his eyes narrowing. Surely he had heard her wrong. He had been called a lot of things in his life - cheater, liar, thief, nuisance - but beggar was not among them. "I'm earning my pay! And your dad's the only one in this stupid kingdom who will give me half a chance! What's wrong with wanting more than I have?"_

_"The fact that you're taking it from others!"_

_"I didn't ask for the job - he chose me!"_

_"Well, he chose wrong!"_

_Grog rolled his eyes. "Oh, I'm sorry, Princess. I didn't realize the world revolved around you so much that no one else matters. You're really selfish, you know that?"_

_She snorted. "What are you talking about?"_

_"You have everything!" He waved his arms around to emphasize. "You live in this nice place with your nice family and everything's perfect!"_

_"It is not perfect!"_

_He sighed. "Well it sure seems that way. You have a dad and a sister. You live in a big house, people aren't afraid of you!" He raised his eyebrows. "You have more than most people. All I'm saying is you should be grateful for it."_

_He tossed his paint brush into a bucket and turned around, starting across the field, hands in his pockets._

_Cremia stared at him, her mouth opening, closing, and then opening again. "Where are you going?" she called after him._

_"I quit! Tell your dad I said thanks."_

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><p><strong>More chapters to come shortly! Thanks for reading! :D <strong>


	2. Chapter 2

**A little later than I hoped it'd be, but here's the update! This chapter picks up right where the other left off, except in present time, just so no one gets confused. xP This story should have one more chapter, two at the most. Also, I've been playing MM lately and all the characters are just perfect. It inspires me to write. :)**

**HUGE thank you to PinaColadaFox and Guest for reviewing the previous chapter! Both of your reviews made me beyond happy and it meant a lot that y'all liked the story! :D**

**PinaColadaFox: Sorry for your loss. :( And I really appreciate your kind words (AND YOUR REVIEW YOU'RE SO NICE). I hope you enjoy this chapter!**

**Guest: I'm honored you'd read my story and welcome back to the LoZ world! It's a lovely place, isn't it? ;)**

**Chapter Two!**

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><p>Grog smiled at the memory. It was hard to believe that the girl sitting next to him now had once hated him so much. Yet here she was, making breakfast and smiling like they were old friends who hadn't talked in a while.<p>

The smile she wore, just as fake as it had been all those years ago, left him with a feeling of dread and an anxiety that caused him to lose whatever appetite he'd once had. As of late, her smiles had been sincere, capable of brightening an entire room, nothing at all like the one she was wearing now. Surely nothing could have changed overnight. Unless Romani had done something, but, judging by the way said child was eying her older sister with suspicion, that wasn't the case.

They were all busy talking amongst themselves, feasting on the meal before them when, suddenly, Cremia jumped out of her seat. "Oh! I forgot to open the windows upstairs! Excuse me!" She fled from the room and hurried upstairs, leaving the others staring at one another with wide eyes.

"Romani, darling." It was Mamamu Yan who broke the silence. "Is your sister all right?"

The younger girl shrugged, staring at her plate. "Romani isn't sure. She's been acting this way since last night. Do you think They wiped her brain?"

Mamamu Yan rolled her eyes, taking another bite of her biscuit. "I doubt it."

"It's possible," Romani went on. "They have been after our cows for a while now. They even-"

Grog stopped listening after that, his gaze wandering to the rest of the room - the clock on the wall (he only had fifteen minutes before he had to open the shack), the old furniture, the pictures on a stand across the room.

They were old photos, some from years before Cremia was born and then another of Romani as a baby, wrapped in a blanket in her sister's arms, their parents sitting behind them. Next to it, there was one of Baiko and Barten standing in front of the Milk Bar the day of its official opening.

Grog's eyes widened and his breath caught in his throat. No. How could he have forgotten? How clueless could they all be?

Mamamu watched him with caution, stopping Romani mid-sentence. "What is it, hun?"

He glanced back at the picture before turning to face her. "Today is the anniversary of Baiko's death."

Mamamu Yan gasped, placing one hand over her mouth and the other over her heart. "Oh, dear! How could I have forgotten?!" She reached over and pulled Romani close to her, rocking the girl back and forth. "Oh, darling, I am so sorry! I can't imagine what you must be going through!"

The child's response could barely be heard, for the woman was smothering her in the hug, "Romani is fine. Need. Air."

Grog shook his head. "I can't believe it's already been two years. It-"

The door upstairs creaked open and Cremia rejoined the group at the table seconds later, causing Grog to shut up immediately.

Romani, finally freeing herself from Mamamu Yan's death grip, hopped up and raced toward the exit. "Romani is going to practice shooting now!"

Cremia shot her a look. "Be careful!" Romani rolled her eyes.

When Cremia glanced back at everyone else, she was met with two concerned gazes. "What?"

And then Mamamu Yan burst into tears.

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><p><em>Even the air was different that day. It was colder, darker. Romani Ranch wasn't emitting that welcoming glow it'd had for years now. It felt empty, lonely, even as Grog stepped foot onto the path that led to the stable, fifteen minutes before six o'clock.<em>

_Clouds covered the gray sky and, from what he'd heard from his grandfather that morning, there would be chances of snow for the next week. He didn't particularly love the idea of colder weather, but the icy climate of Snowhead always blew in this time of year and, while blizzards and snow storms ensued, it could be quite beautiful._

_He was hoping to smell another of Baiko and Cremia's home cooked breakfasts as he approached the old farm house, but, instead, he was only greeted with a locked door and a frenetic Mamamu Yan, who was standing behind him, bundled up in layers of blue and white._

_"I've knocked and knocked, but no one will come to the door," she explained, brown eyes full concern. "Do you think they're all right?"_

_Grog studied the house. All the lights were off, the windows closed. Not a sound came from inside, no smoke escaped the chimney. It didn't even resemble the warm home he'd visited so often. In fact, if he didn't know better, he'd say they'd all taken off and abandoned the place._

_He turned back to Mamamu Yan, who was shivering beneath her layers. "Did you check the stable already?"_

_"Yes. They haven't even let the cows into the pasture yet."_

_His eyebrows furrowed and he watched the air in front of him when he let out a deep breath. "Maybe they're making deliveries to the Milk Bar?"_

_"Before six o'clock in the morning?" She rolled her eyes. "Face it: Something just isn't right."_

_And she was correct. They didn't see Baiko, Cremia, or Romani for days. No one entered the house, no one exited. No matter how much they knocked and pleaded, neither Grog nor Mamamu Yan could get a word out of the family. There was no sign they were all right._

_Grog had asked Mr. Barten about it one evening, but the man had simply stated he hadn't seen Baiko at all since the last milk delivery, a week ago._

_Mamamu Yan was immensely worried about the family, but pretended not to show it, paying more attention to her dogs than usual and advising Grog to do the same with his cuccos. They decided to take turns caring for the cows, who would otherwise be suffering the consequences of a cold winter and no food. "Life must go on," she'd said. "Whatever has happened is serious, but they'll come out when they're ready."_

_The sun rose and disappeared beyond the horizon, days felt like months, and Termina was soon covered in a thick blanket of snow, flakes falling from the sky, keeping everything in its place._

_Milk deliveries were forced to a halt when Mayor Dotour suggested no one leave Clock Town unless absolutely necessary, for blizzards were not only dangerous but quite common this time of year. However, Grog couldn't stand the thought of abandoning the cuccos, the ranch, or Cremia's family. He wouldn't._

_So, after leaving a note for Gramps and packing a few things, he set out across Termina Field before dawn and forced his way through the wind and snow, eventually stumbling into Romani Ranch which, as usual, looked deserted._

_Although it was barely four o'clock in the morning, he couldn't help but smile when he spotted the tray of food sitting at the doorstep of the family's home. Of course Mamamu Yan had left it there. He could already hear her dogs barking from the racetrack. Apparently she couldn't stay away either._

_He had just stuffed his hands into the pockets of his coat, about to head over to the Cucco Shack, when he spotted someone trudging through the snow with a lantern halfway across the ranch, only visible thanks to a slight break from the wind._

_Dropping his bag next to the house, he started across the field, slowing his footsteps only when he was several yards away from the person. He opened his mouth to speak, but the person - now very clearly a girl - dropped to her knees._

_From where he was standing, Grog could hear her cries, see her body shaking. "Why?" she shouted, her lantern going out when it hit the snow covered ground. "Why didn't you tell me?"_

_This was Cremia, he now realized, as the wind blew her hair back and her voice echoed through the early morning air. It had been just over a week since he'd last seen her, but the distance he felt between them now made it seem like years had passed instead._

_She didn't notice him watching as her tears fell and melted tiny spots of snow. She couldn't see his worry, but he could feel her pain. Something terrible had happened._

_He took several steps forward, stopping when he was by her side. He didn't speak, for what was there to say? Mere words couldn't change this situation, an explanation on her part wouldn't make things better. But what had happened? Why were they both here, at four o'clock in the morning during a blizzard that was sure to keep Termina frozen for weeks? What was going on?_

_He watched as she sobbed into the snow, wrapping her arms around herself in a vain attempt to keep warm. "Why did this happen?" she whispered, then, raising her voice once more, she shouted, "Did you think we'd be okay?"_

_Pausing, she let out a bitter laugh, staring up at the foggy, dark sky. "Well? You were wrong! How does that feel, huh? We're not okay and it's all your fault!" She slammed her fists down onto the ground, sending snow flying all around her, and her voice came out as a whisper once more, "This is all your fault."_

_Grog watched her as she cried, bent over so far her face was halfway in the snow, the wind blowing harder now. A board, broken probably due to the weather, sat inches away from her head, wet and covered in snowflakes. He took a few steps toward it, crouching before Cremia and reaching for the wood._

_"Don't," she said and his hand froze in place. "Go home, Grog."_

_He turned slowly, studying her face. Had she really just told him to go home?After sleepless nights spent worried about her and long days caring for the cows and keeping Mamamu Yan from breaking into the house, she wanted him to go home? No explanation, no exchange of words, her sole wish was for him to leave?_

_He stood, pausing for a final second, giving her a chance to open up, a chance to talk to a human being instead of the sky. She never spoke, though, or so much as looked up at him. He was turning to walk away again when the wood from earlier caught his eye once more. There were letters carved into it, he now realized. Glancing back at Cremia, he bent down and picked it up, but his eyes had no time to scan the words before Cremia had jumped up, knocking it out of his hands._

_"I said don't!" she shouted, tears still flowing freely from her eyes. He reached to pick it up, but she grabbed his wrist, falling to her knees, refusing to release him. "Please. Don't."_

_His gaze moved from her to the sign. It lay on top of the snow, several feet away now, but he could make out the words, even from where he was standing. Engraved onto the wood was a message, sweet and written in messy, slanted handwriting like that of a child: _Here lies the body of Baiko, a hard-working man who loved all of his family, but especially Romani. We'll miss you, Daddy. Love, Cremia and Romani, but especially Romani.

_Grog checked the date. Last week, that was when it'd happened. He'd known something was wrong. Why on earth hadn't he put it together?_

_He glanced back down at Cremia, who had yet to release his wrist. She was crying harder now. What had she done for the last week, without Baiko there anymore? She looked thinner - had she simply not eaten, or were they out of food? And what about Romani? How was she holding up? Why hadn't they told anyone?_

_Grog stared at the sign and suddenly the snow felt icier, the wind chilled him to the bone. Baiko was gone. The only person who'd ever given Grog the benefit of the doubt, the only person who'd cared without reason, was gone, leaving behind two incredible daughters who, from the looks of it, couldn't go on without him. What would happen to Romani Ranch, to their family?_

_He lowered himself down to the ground next to Cremia, placing a hand over hers on his arm. That was all it took. She collapsed into his arms, her body shaking and her cries muffled by his coat. He sat completely still for what felt like a long time before, finally, he pulled his arms up and wrapped them around her. He did his best to comfort her, although he was sure a few awkward pats on the back did nothing to ease her pain._

_He wasn't used to this stuff - stuff like girls and crying and emotions. This was a job for her father, not him. But Baiko was no longer here, no longer just a few yards away, there when they needed him. Cremia couldn't call for him when Romani tried to fly away on the cuccos, or when the cows got sick, or when Cremia needed someone to be there for her, like now, as she and Grog sat in the snow, the latter staying completely silent until she cried herself to sleep in his arms and Mamamu Yan approached them with Romani to find out what had happened._

_The four of them sat in the snow, huddled together for warmth as they cried and reminisced about the good times they'd shared with Baiko, as well as each other. Nothing was okay, but, for right now, it didn't have to be._

* * *

><p>Grog sighed, from where he sat beneath a tree in the Cucco Shack. It had only been two years, but the pain of Baiko's death still stung now as much as it had the day he'd found out. A lot had changed since then - the ranch hadn't been closed down, Cremia and Romani were okay, and the Milk Bar had yet to run out of milk - but this day would always be a hard one for those who worked at Romani Ranch.<p>

After Mamamu Yan's breakdown at breakfast, Cremia had looked a little unsettled, but she'd remained calm and retreated to the stable to send the cows into the pasture. Grog didn't blame her for pretty much running off. There were very few who could handle waterworks from Mamamu Yan, much less on the anniversary of a loved one's passing.

Grog hadn't bothered to find or comfort Cremia. What was there to say? There was nothing he could do to change the past, nothing he could do to take away her pain. Yeah, he missed Baiko, too, but what good would rehashing the past do? He wasn't about to make a scene, the way Mamamu Yan had. No way.

He looked up at the sky just as thunder sounded and a wall of rain came pouring down from above. The cuccos hopped around in surprise, chirping their complaints at him.

He hated days like these, when the rain forced all work at the ranch to a stop and everyone either had to go home or stay locked away in the home of Cremia and Romani until the storm passed.

He stood, the cuccos following him over to the shelter, where they'd all be dry. After making sure they were safe and fed, he locked up the shack and trudged across the wet field to the house. He wasn't sure he was ready to face the sorrow of the household or the possibility of another meltdown from Mamamu. This was already proving to be quite a long day without her antics.

"It doesn't look like the rain will be letting up any time soon," Cremia said the moment he stepped through the doorway. She was standing by the table, already busying herself by sweeping the wooden floor with great care. "This sure puts everything on hold, huh?"

He studied her face. She was stronger now than she'd been two years ago. She wasn't about to fall apart, her smile wouldn't fade. She wasn't going to scream at the sky and she'd never let him see her break down again. However, her eyes spoke more than words could ever say. Even a smile couldn't hide the emptiness, the pain. He looked away.

It would be getting dark soon, anyway. Maybe he could call it a day and spend some time with Gramps for a change. "Well," he began, avoiding that empty gaze of hers, "I'll see you tomorrow."

The door was already halfway open when he froze at the sound of her voice. "Wait, Grog." She didn't sound happy, or frustrated, or even upset. Her voice was calm, steady, but a desperation rang out in it and he couldn't bring himself to turn around just yet. "Don't go home. Please, stay."

He finally turned, slowly, and his eyes met hers once more. There was something there, something that hadn't been there before. What was it?

Almost two years ago, those very eyes had been filled with despair as she ordered him to go home. Now, eyes flickering with hope, she was asking him to stay. A lot had changed in two years.

"I mean," she added quickly when he didn't respond, "it's pouring right now. You're welcome to stay until the skies clear and I can give you a ride back to town."

There was a long pause where he only blinked, his face expressionless.

"You know . . . If you want, that is." She turned away, clearly embarrassed. "Or not. That's fine, too. Mamamu Yan, Romani, and I will be here as well if you change your mind."

A corner of his mouth moved upward, barely enough for her to notice, but it was there. "I'll stay."

Two, simple words and she turned around. Then she smiled, a real smile this time.

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><p><strong>I think the next chapter is my favorite. Wait, can authors have favorites? XD It was certainly the most fun to write. Thanks for reading! :D<strong>


	3. Chapter 3

**Greetings! So I decided to go ahead and post this chapter, because I reread it today and it reminded me that the moon keeps shining. :) With that said, I hope you guys enjoy this chapter! :D**

**James Birdsong: I appreciate your review! :)**

**Also, just a side note, but this whole chapter is a flashback and quite a bit shorter than the previous chapters. Enjoy! ^_^**

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><p><em>The thing about loss was that one never pitied those who passed on, but rather those left behind. It was the latter who were forced to remain and face the brutal reality left for them. The challenge wasn't simply to survive, but to continue living, even in spite of the circumstances and loss that surrounded them.<em>

_However, Grog realized, it wasn't the losses or the circumstances that made life worth living, but those who stuck by your side through it all. The people one experienced life with would always mean more than the challenges they overcame. And this, above all, was the truth that rang out, in the midst of disaster._

_The funeral was small. Nothing profound or life altering was said. Few showed up, but many cried. This was not a death to be forgotten, though a life to be remembered. Baiko had changed countless lives in his short, forty-something years of life. He'd been a father, a caretaker, a friend._

_Barten had stood before everyone and said a few kind words, recounting several humorous tales from times he'd spent with Baiko at the bar. Tears sprang into his eyes halfway through his speech, but he held it together well, crying only when he was done and Cremia's best friend, Anju, had stepped up to say a few words._

_She, too, stayed strong throughout her speech, but Grog found her bawling in the upstairs bedroom, twenty minutes after they'd all headed inside._

_The table downstairs was covered in many different dishes, all of which Mamamu Yan had prepared in honor of the many times Baiko had fixed meals for she and Grog, asking nothing in return. Every last bit of her food was terrible - it tasted the way Grog imagined dog food would taste - but no one complained, not even Mayor Dotour and his family, who'd showed up to pay their respects._

_Everyone was quiet for the majority of the day, although hushed conversations would begin every once in a while, only to fade back to silence shortly thereafter. Neither Romani nor Cremia looked up for all the company, but they forced smiles and thanked everyone, anyway._

_Grog found himself sneaking off to the Cucco Shack on several occasions, especially when the tension and sorrow of the household became too much to bear. He knew he should feel guilty, for hiding, for not saying more than two words all day, for not preparing a meal or really helping at all. But he didn't feel guilt. He didn't feel anything._

_Over the death of a man who'd sacrificed so much to welcome him, a total stranger, into such an incredible family, he felt nothing. Was he that cold hearted, or simply in shock? Someone had given him everything and, once again, he'd given nothing in return._

_The door to the shack creaked open and he shoved his hands into his pockets before turning to see who had arrived._

_"So this is the ol' workplace, huh?" It was Barten who'd entered, clad in a dark suit Grog could never imagine him wearing otherwise. "A lot more, uh . . . open than the Milk Bar, isn't it?"_

_When the pale teen failed to respond, the older man stepped into the grassy area, careful not to crush the chicks hopping around. He stopped when he was next to Grog, giving the boy a hard slap on the shoulder. "It isn't easy, losing someone."_

_Grog shifted uncomfortably, his gaze moving to the ground, where the cuccos chirped merrily despite the dreary day._

_"It's a shame we can't change these things," Barten went on, staring up at the cloudy sky. "Ol' Baiko sure did a lot of good in this world." Grog nodded in silent agreement and Barten turned to meet his eyes. "You okay, kid?"_

_There was a long pause. "All of these people, they get to go home, back to their happy lives . . . but Cremia and Romani can't. This _is _home. We lost a friend, but they lost a father." He met Baiko's brown eyed gaze. "How is that fair?"_

_The bartender didn't answer right away. Instead, he stood there in silence, seconds ticking by like hours. "Well, Grog," he said, finally, "the truth is that life isn't always fair. You didn't deserve to lose a friend and those girls didn't deserve to lose a father." He rubbed the back of his neck, sighing. "But sometimes, life doesn't deal you the hand you want. Doesn't mean you did anything wrong, just means better luck next time."_

_Grog shot him a look. "Better luck?" he repeated. "That's it? Their father is gone and you say 'better luck next time'?"_

_"Look, I know you don't see it right now, but they're gonna be okay, and you are, too." Grog looked doubtful, so Barten continued, "It won't be easy, but life goes on."_

_"I just . . ." He sighed. "I can't imagine anyone getting over this."_

_"Get over it?" A laugh suddenly erupted from within Barten, startling both the cuccos and the teen before him. "You can't get over something like this!"_

_Grog could feel all hope leave him in a rush. Maybe pep talks weren't Barten's strong suit._

_"But you can get through it." His lips moved upward into the smallest of smiles. "You can get through it, with each other." Glancing down at his watch, he grinned before giving Grog a hard pat on the shoulder. "Well, I gotta run. The bar won't clean itself. Drinks are on the house tonight, in Baiko's honor. Feel free to stop by."_

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><p><em>In all honesty, he didn't feel like heading over to the Milk Bar that night. In fact, he'd planned a quiet night at home with Gramps, who'd scarcely seen his grandson since Baiko passed away. It wasn't anything special, neither one of them were huge on talking, but they enjoyed each other's company nevertheless.<em>

_However, it was Mamamu Yan who'd talked him into going to the bar instead. "It'll do the girls some good to get out of the house," she'd said, nodding at Cremia and Romani, who were standing in front of their father's grave, each laying a flower before it as the sun fell below the horizon. "They've been stuck here for weeks, grieving Baiko's death. Why not head on out to celebrate his life?"_

_"Okay."_

_"Okay?" She rolled her eyes. "What's that supposed to mean?"_

_"They should go."_

_She sighed dramatically. "I'm not saying _they _should go, I'm saying _you and I _should go with them!"_

_And that was that. It was hard to say no to Mamamu Yan, not because she had any sort of charm about her (that had never been the case), but because she just wouldn't shut up otherwise._

_So far, the night had been a long one for Grog. He'd had two drinks spilled on him; a drunk lady had climbed onto the stage, screeching an off-key tune for all to hear; and, to top it all off, he'd been volunteered by Barten to escort Romani out of the bar when she'd mistakenly reached for a glass of Cheateau Romani instead of average milk. Thankfully, she hadn't even gotten two sips in before Barten had caught her and called Grog over._

_Now, the two sat outside, leaning up against the cool, brick building, the moon shining high in the sky above them. The silence was nice for a change. The last few days had been hectic, with funeral preparations and total strangers dropping by the ranch to send their condolences. But this is what he'd wanted all along - not drunk men shouting at one another, or Mamamu Yan babbling about one of her many dogs, but silence._

_"Romani is bored." The child fiddled with her worn shoes, looking up at him. "Can't we go back in?"_

_He allowed a soft sigh to escape his lips as he tried not to imagine what a drunk Romani would be like. "No, we can't."_

_"Why not?"_

_"Because."_

_"Because why?"_

_"Because little girls shouldn't go into bars."_

_They slipped into silence once more and Grog leaned his head against the building behind them. He could still hear the laughter and music blaring from inside. He should've gone home. What good was he doing Cremia and Romani by being here? This wasn't a celebration, just another thing to remind them of their father, just another way for people to get drunk for free. No one in there cared about Baiko, not like those girls did, not like Grog did._

_"This is pointless," he muttered, closing his eyes._

_Romani stared up at him, her blue eyes wide. "What is?" She smiled to herself when he didn't respond, propping her elbows up on her knees as she stared at up the black sky. "There are no stars out tonight. Maybe they miss Daddy, too."_

_He opened his eyes, fixating his gaze on her. Where had that come from? She'd been fine only moments earlier. He sure hoped she wouldn't start crying. He wasn't quite ready for that yet._

_"They miss him, so the sky is dark." She didn't look upset. There were no tears, her lips weren't quivering. She smiled, a sincere one. "But that's okay, the moon is still shining."_

_He was beyond confused, but didn't dare say anything. Maybe in some unconventional way, this was Romani's idea of letting it out, dealing with all she'd been through at such a young age. It didn't have to make sense to him._

_She met his blank, white eyes, giving him a pat on the hand before turning to stare at the black sky once more. "We don't need stars to light our way, Cucco Boy. The moon does that. See?" She pointed. "The moon never goes away."_

_He studied it, emitting its heavenly glow from its perch high above, and pondered what she was saying. Could it be she was simply rambling about nothing, or could there be truth in her words? She'd always had a knack for saying off the wall things, but . . . Maybe this time, she was onto something._

_"Daddy was a star," she told him, grinning at the sky. "He was there to light our way for a little while, but now he's gone. The sky hasn't changed, just the way Romani sees it." She turned to smile at Grog. "It's a picture."_

_"A picture?"_

_She nodded. "Daddy was just a small part of the sky. He was shining for us, but only for a while. See? The sky looks empty when we look for the stars, but, if you look at the whole sky, the light from the moon makes everything less scary. Make sense?"_

_"Yeah . . . It does."_

_"Right." Her smile widened, if possible. "The stars will be sad for a while, but they'll be okay. The moon keeps shining, even when the sky seems empty." She rested her gaze on Grog once more, giving him a small pat on the shoulder. "We'll be okay."_

_He stared at her, his mouth hanging open in surprise. What had made her come to that conclusion? She couldn't have been more than ten years old and yet, here she was, telling _him _that they'd all be okay. It was rare when he'd heard anyone say anything so profound, let alone a little girl who'd just lost her father._

_"What makes you so sure?" he finally asked, after a long pause. "How do you know we'll be okay?"_

_She giggled, as though this were some sort of joke and he simply wasn't catching on. "We have each other, Cucco Boy. We're family and that's all that matters."_

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><p><strong>I love writing Grog and Romani moments. It's so much fun and you just never know what might happen when they're together. XD The next chapter should be the last (maybe like an epilogue of sorts), but who's to say there won't be thirteen more? You never know. ;P Thanks for reading! :D<strong>


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